


Comfort and Camaraderie

by sinnerforhire



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:30:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerforhire/pseuds/sinnerforhire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six gen-ish hurt/comfort comment fics featuring sick!Jensen, hurt!Jensen, and hurt!Misha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whiplash

"I'm gonna kill that kid. Seriously."

"I know. You said that already, about seven times. I got the message." Jared sets a glass of water on the nightstand. "Maybe you should give in and take the Vicodin."

Jensen scowls. "No."

"Shit, man, you're miserable. And you're making me miserable with your bitching. So shut up and take the damn pills."

"What would you rather do, listen to me bitch or clean puke off your carpet? Your call, Jay."

Jared opens his mouth to reply, but Jensen hisses and squeezes his eyes shut. Jared winces in sympathy, muscle spasms are a _bitch_. "Breathe, Jen."

It's several more seconds before Jensen unclenches his jaw and opens his eyes. "God, that sucks."

Jared frowns. "I don't know, maybe you should go back to the hospital. It's been almost 8 hours and you're getting worse, not better."

"They'd just tell me the same thing, or drug me into a stupor. I'll live--it's just whiplash."

"Is this some kind of weird Method thing? 'Cause I swear, you're turning into Dean. And it's creepy."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Shut up and get me the heating pad." His face softens. "Please."

Jared smiles. "Sure." He picks up the hideous green and orange heating pad from the nightstand and switches it on. It was his parents' and it's older than he is, but it works great and the nostalgia of it is part of the comfort--at least for him. He's pretty sure Jensen just thinks it's an ugly 70s relic. He waits for it to heat up, then wraps the pad around Jensen's neck and shoulder.

Jensen sighs and lets his eyes flutter closed. "Thanks," he says quietly. It looks like he's going to fall asleep, so Jared starts to leave. He's got the door half closed when Jensen speaks up again, surprising him. "Sorry I've been such a bitch."

Jared turns around, leaning on the doorframe. "Don't worry about it. Get some sleep, you need it."

"Can you take this thing off in, like, 15 minutes?"

"Yeah, no problem." Jared turns the light off and gently closes the door.

He enters the room 15 minutes later and pulls the heating pad off of Jensen's neck. Jared doesn't realize he's awake, so when Jensen groans, it startles the hell out of him. "Jesus! I thought you were sleeping."

"Couldn't sleep," Jensen replies. "I never sleep on my back. It feels weird."

"Yeah, well, you don't have much of a choice, seeing as you can barely turn your head."

Jensen sighs. "God, I'm so fucking tense."

"You want a massage?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Jensen answers. "I think that'd just hurt more."

"I'll be real careful," Jared promises. "Just please, let me try. I hate seeing you in pain like this."

Jensen takes a deep breath. "Okay."

Jared sits down beside Jensen and lays a hand on the side of Jensen's neck that's really bothering him. "Jesus Christ, Jensen, your muscles are like rocks. No wonder it hurts."

"Your hands are cold," Jensen says petulantly.

"No, you're just really warm. Try and relax." Jared gently kneads the tight muscle under his hand until it starts to give a little; not hearing any complaints from Jensen, he increases the pressure. He puts his other hand on Jensen's shoulder, does the same thing. He keeps working, putting more and more strength into it as Jensen's body starts to respond. Jensen's making these soft humming noises that sure sound like satisfaction to Jared. He shifts position slightly, pushing his hands closer together, toward the junction of Jensen's neck and shoulder. Jensen quiets, his breath evens and slows, and Jared smiles when he realizes Jensen's fallen asleep. He keeps going for another minute or so, until he's sure Jensen's under, then he kisses Jensen's forehead, turns off the lights and whispers, "Sweet dreams, Jen."


	2. Nightmare

"A_choo_!"

"Bless you," says Jared for the 35th time. He pulls the wrapping off a new box of tissues and holds it out to Jensen, who takes two with a shaky hand. Jensen's nose is rubbed raw and Jared sees him wince when he blows it for what must be the 50th time today.

"Ugh." Jensen flops back into the mound of pillows. "Do be a favor. Go to work, get ode of the guds, and shoot be. Pud be oud of by bisery." Jared has to think about that for a minute before he can translate it to "put me out of my misery."

Jared shakes his head. "Do you have any idea what Eric would do to me if I killed you?"

"Yeah, he'd udleash the rabid fadgirls," Jensen replies. Jared almost laughs; talking to Jensen is like playing that letter-swap game from _Whose Line is it Anyway?_. Somehow he doesn't think Jensen will find that as amusing as he does, so he keeps it to himself.

Jensen yawns, but it turns into a fit of hacking coughs. Jared frowns. "Dude, I think you better call the doctor tomorrow. That doesn't sound very good. You might have bronchitis or something."

He expects Jensen to come back with a snarky denial or an insult to Jared's manhood, so he's shocked when Jensen just sniffles and says, "Yeah, baybe you're righd."

Jensen's eyelids are drooping, and Jared wouldn't mind turning in early himself; it was a long day on the set without Jensen after Eric sent him home early and told him not to come back until he could do a whole scene without sneezing or coughing. "You ready to go to sleep?"

"Does thad bean you're leavig?"

He's not sure if Jensen is purposely giving him the most pathetic look he can muster, but if he is, it certainly has the desired effect. Jared smiles softly. "'Course not, baby. I'll be right here if you need anything." He crosses the room and turns out the lights, then crawls into bed next to Jensen. Jensen sneezes twice, coughs, then finally settles.

*~*~*~*~*

"No...no, please, don't...stop...you're hurting him...STOP!"

Jared jerks into full consciousness at Jensen's hoarse cry. When he reaches over to shake Jensen awake, Jensen's shirt is damp with sweat and Jared can feel the heat of his fever through the fabric. He's also still trapped in his nightmare, tossing restlessly and making these little whimpering noises that sound more like the dogs than anything else. Jared grasps Jensen's shoulder and squeezes it hard. "Jensen! Wake up."

Jensen comes to with a gasp and then starts coughing. Jared pulls him upright and rubs his back until the coughing fit stops. Jensen's shaking like a leaf and choking back sobs. Jared slides an arm around his shoulder and pulls him in close. "Shhh, baby, it's okay. You're okay. I'm here." He brushes Jensen's sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. "It was just a dream. Everything's fine." The irregular stutter of Jensen's breathing slowly evens out; the trembling lessens and then stops altogether. Jensen rests his head on Jared's shoulder and Jared kisses his burning forehead.

They stay like that for a few more minutes, until Jared is sure that Jensen's calm enough to let him go. "I'm gonna go get you some medicine, but I'll be right back, okay? I'm just going down the hall."

"Okay," Jensen whispers. Jared disentangles himself and grabs a bottle of Tylenol out of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

When he comes back, he finds Jensen with his arms crossed tight, teeth chattering and shivering with cold, and Jared feels like a complete idiot. He pulls a fresh t-shirt and flannel pants from the dresser and tosses them on the bed. "Come on, let's get you out of those wet clothes." He helps Jensen up and steadies him when the dizziness hits. Once he's satisfied that Jensen's not going to faceplant, he hands him the dry clothes and pulls the damp sheets off the bed.

Once the bed is made and Jensen's dressed, Jared restacks the mound of pillows and gets Jensen settled into it. Jensen gazes up at him with fever-bright eyes. "Thagks."

"Don't mention it." Jared grins. "I mean it. You'll ruin my reputation."

"Everybody dows you're a barshballow, Jay," Jensen replies with a smile of his own.

"Yeah, and you love me for it." Jared leans over and pecks him on the cheek.

"Yeah," says Jensen. "I do."


	3. Synchronicity

Misha's costars are girls in disguise.

No, really, they are. They _giggle_, for fuck's sake. Misha will walk into craft services and there they'll be, heads together, giggling like teenage girls at a slumber party. He can never shake the feeling that they're giggling about him.

And the texting. Jesus Christ. Jared's not usually required on set when he and Jensen are, so Jared and Jensen text back and forth approximately 5 times a minute when the camera isn't rolling. What could they possibly have to talk about? They're together more often than not on the set and then they go home together at night. Don't they ever get sick of each other?

Then there's that weird mind-meld thing they seem to have. Misha supposes it's only natural, that if you spend every waking hour of the day with someone you obviously get a pretty good idea of how they think, but it's still a little creepy. He and Jensen will be idly chatting in makeup or wardrobe or wherever, and Jared will walk in with an expectant look on his face. Jensen will turn around and give Jared some weird non sequitur that turns out to be the answer to the question Jared was about to ask. Jared will nod, say "okay then," and walk back out.

"How did you _do_ that?" Misha had sputtered the first time it happened. Jensen just shrugged.

They're both nice enough to him, polite Southern boys that they are; they ask him about his wife and his weekend and smile indulgently at his answers. Jensen obviously Googled him before they met, because one of the first things Jensen said to him was, "Did you really work at the White House?" He'd known about the poetry as well, and Misha gets the feeling that they think he's stuck up and stuffy. Misha prefers wine to beer, reading to pumping iron, carpentry to golfing. He's not that much older than Jensen, but he sometimes feels like he's playing professor to their All-American frat boys.

Take today, for instance. They're shooting in the park with a bunch of pre-adolescent extras, and there aren't enough crew members to keep them corralled. There are also buttons that control the sprinklers scattered all around the playground's borders. Every time a kid presses one of those damn buttons, it's twenty minutes before they can set up the next shot. So they're doing a _lot_ of waiting around. Jensen borrowed a football from the prop master and they're tossing it around for lack of anything better to do. At first Misha feels pretty pathetic--Jensen doesn't come out and say he throws like a girl, but Misha knows he's thinking it; hell, _Misha's_ thinking it--but he gets the hang of it after a while.

"Go long," Jensen calls, pointing over Misha's head. Jensen throws a perfect spiral and Misha takes off, watching the ball arc through the air.

Next thing he knows, he's hitting the ground so hard it knocks the wind out of him. He hears Jensen yell and he wants to answer him, wants to let him know that he's okay, but his chest is locked up like a bank vault. Finally, after what seems like hours but is probably only two seconds, he manages to suck in some air. Then Jensen's kneeling beside him, one hand on his shoulder. "Man, are you all right? Jesus."

"I'm fine," Misha wheezes, moving to sit up. And that's when he feels the stab of pain in his ankle. He can't help letting out a loud grunt.

Jensen pulls back. "What's wrong?"

Misha eases himself up on one elbow. "'S nothing," he replies, shaking his head. "Twisted my ankle a little. Not a big deal."

Jensen slips his hand under Misha's pant leg. Misha winces and hisses sharply. God, he hopes it's not broken. He's going to have a hard enough time explaining this as it is. Jensen frowns. "It's already swelling. I'll get the medic."

"No!" Misha grabs Jensen's wrist. "Let me walk it off. I'll be fine." He intends to stand up, but trying to move his leg hurts so much he gasps and bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Dude, _stop_," orders Jensen. He stands up. "Don't move. I mean it." He starts jogging toward the crew setup, glancing back over his shoulder every few seconds. Misha sighs and grits his teeth.

*~*~*~*~*

"This is ridiculous," Misha says, glaring at the wooden crutches Jensen's holding out. "I don't need those."

"Yeah? Get up, then," Jensen replies, taking a step backwards. Misha fumes silently. "I thought so. Come on, Gimpy, car's waiting. I'd like to get home before midnight."

"You gonna turn into a pumpkin?" Misha sighs and takes the crutches from Jensen.

Jensen grins. "No, but it _is_ a full moon tonight."

"That explains it, then," says Misha, hobbling alongside Jensen. "I must be cursed."

"Nope, just klutzy." Jensen puts a hand on the elevator door to keep it from closing. "Guess _your_ guardian angel took the day off."

"This is all your fault, you know," Misha tells him, tapping the back of Jensen's knee with one crutch. "I could sue you."

"Hey, if it weren't for me you'd _still_ be sitting on your ass in that field." The elevator doors open and Jensen holds down the "door open" button until Misha's made his slow, awkward way into the hall. "You should be thanking me."

Jensen holds the car door open for Misha and puts the crutches in the trunk. When they get to the hotel, Jensen opens the door and climbs out. "You need any help? I could come up."

Misha shakes his head. "Thanks, I'm fine," he replies, picking up the crutches.

"See you tomorrow, then." Jensen gets back in the car, but it doesn't pull away until Misha is safely inside.

The next day, Jensen calls him a gimp approximately fifty times. But he also doesn't text Jared between takes and carries Misha's food for him at lunch. And when Jared pulls up a chair beside them and asks what happened, Jensen just says, "Gravity's a bitch, dude."

"What does that mean?" asks Jared.

Jensen winks at Misha. "See, we were at the park. And there was this cat up a tree..."


	4. Stupid Heart Thing

Vancouver is having an uncharacteristic warm spell. It hasn't rained much, either; the ground's had a chance to dry out. Shockingly, Jared, Jensen and Misha all have the afternoon off. Jared managed to find a non-dog-chewed Frisbee in his trailer and the three of them are tossing it around behind the trailers.

"You throw like a fuckin' girl, Collins," Jensen calls, scooping the yellow disc up from the dirt.

"You're hung like a fuckin' girl, _Jenny_," Misha retorts as Jensen flings the Frisbee at Jared's head.

Jensen scowls. "He's the only one that gets to call me that," he replies, gesturing at Jared. "And that's only because he knows where I sleep."

Jared throws the Frisbee over Misha's head for the 15th time. Misha jumps but misses it. He trots over to where it lands and brushes some dust off. He straightens up to toss it to Jensen but stops. "You okay?" he asks. "You look a little pale."

"I'm fine," Jensen snaps. "Sometime today, dude. Daylight's burning."

Misha hurls the Frisbee at Jensen. Jensen fumbles it at first but keeps a hold of it. Misha watches him carefully as he throws the disc to Jared and sees him wobble a little and go paler still.

"Hold up," Misha shouts as Jared plucks the Frisbee out of the air. He takes two steps toward Jensen. "You sure you're okay? We can take a break."

"I said I'm _fine_!" Jensen yells, but the effort leaves him panting. He leans forward and puts his hands on his knees, struggling for breath.

"Jen?" Jared says quietly.

Misha glances at Jared over his shoulder. "Go get the coldest bottle of water you can find," he instructs the younger man. Jared nods and runs off. Misha jogs over to Jensen and presses a finger to his neck. As he suspected, Jensen's heart is racing furiously. He puts his other hand on Jensen's shoulder and guides him down to the ground. "Has this happened before?"

"Not since I...was a kid," Jensen gasps. "Thought I...outgrew it."

Misha nods. "Hang in there. Just breathe."

He hears Jared shout and turns around. Jared skids to a halt, drops to his knees and shoves the ice-cold bottle of water into Misha's hand. Misha uncaps it, tips Jensen's head back, and dumps half of it on his face. Jensen sputters and coughs for a few seconds, then starts breathing easier. Misha uses his shirtsleeve to wipe some of the excess water away, then checks Jensen's pulse again. It's still fast, but closer to normal and continuing to slow. When Jensen's gotten his breathing pretty much under control, Misha hands him the bottle of water and he drinks it greedily.

"What--how did you--is he okay?"

Misha looks over at Jared, who's clearly panicking. He gives him a reassuring smile "He'll be fine. It's not life-threatening, just scary."

"What the fuck was that?"

"Don't freak out," says Jensen. "It's just this stupid heart thing I've had since I was little. It hasn't happened in years. It's not a big deal." He looks up at Misha. "How'd you know?"

"My cousin had the same thing," Misha answers. "I actually had permission to put his head in the toilet."

Jensen grins, but Jared just glares at him. "That looked like a pretty big fucking deal to me."

"Seriously, I'm fine," says Jensen. He takes another long swig of water and stands up. "I need to change my shirt, but after that, we can play."

Jared scrambles to his feet. "No, you're gonna go lay down."

Jensen rolls his eyes. "Jay..."

"You need to _rest_, Jensen."

"Jared, really, he's okay," says Misha, standing up. "Might not be a bad idea to take a little break, though."

"You're ganging up on me?" Jensen looks from Misha to Jared, who's still fuming. "Christ, you're worse than my fucking parents." He sighs and inclines his head towards their trailers. "Fine, whatever. Let's go play Xbox."

Jared nods. Misha watches them walk to Jensen's trailer. Jared stays behind Jensen, puts a hand on Jensen's back as he starts up the steps. Jensen reaches back and smacks it away. Misha shakes his head. He feels bad for Jensen; Jared's not going to let this go anytime soon, it seems. He knows it'll annoy Jensen no end, Jared treating him like he's breakable, but he hopes that deep down Jensen realizes how lucky he is to have such a caring, devoted friend.


	5. A Hallmark Moment

The third time Jensen gets flung into the wall, he grunts a bit louder than usual and it distracts Jared enough that he messes up the take. "Sorry, man," he says to Jensen, who's grimacing and stiffly climbing to his feet. He gives Jared a cursory nod, face deliberately set in an expressionless mask. He takes his mark and Jared does the same. Jared tells himself that he's not going to mess this one up no matter what happens.

"And...action!"

He carefully doesn't watch Jensen get thrown into the wall again, just scowls and concentrates on nailing the take. When the director cuts the scene, Jared's hopeful, but then he announces that they didn't like the lighting, so they have to go through it again. "That was great, though, guys," he tells them. "Another one like that and we'll have it."

"Thank God," mutters Jensen just loud enough for Jared to hear. He rolls his right shoulder and winces.

Jared frowns. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good." But he doesn't look at Jared when he says it.

They end up doing three more takes before the director and Kripke finally give their blessing to move on. Then it's Jim's turn to get tossed around like a rag doll for a while.

By the time they get finished with the day's work, Jensen's clearly done in. Jared tries to tease him gently about looking like an arthritic octogenarian but he's not in the mood, so they spend the car ride home in silence. Since Jensen's moving as fast as the average snail, Jared pushes past him and heads to the kitchen. He grabs the big icepack, a bottle of water and the extra-strength Tylenol and sets it all on the coffee table. Jensen gingerly sits down on the couch and presses the icepack to his bruised shoulder.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Jared asks as he shakes four pills into his hand. He uncaps the bottle of water and holds each out to Jensen one at a time. Jensen gratefully takes the proffered drugs and sinks back into the cushion with a sigh.

"Yeah, whatever you want," he replies.

Jared flips through their combined movie collection and comes up with _Iron Man_. He knows it doesn't really matter what he picks, Jensen's going to be asleep in about five minutes anyway. He's clearly exhausted.

Jared lets the dogs out for a few minutes, promising them a longer walk after dinner, then refills their water bowl and goes to check on Jensen. He's passed out with his head tipped back at an angle that's only going to make him hurt worse, so Jared sits down next to him and shifts him around so that his head ends up on Jared's shoulder. He pulls the neck of Jensen's t-shirt down to look at the extent of the bruising. Jensen's shoulder blade looks like an overripe plum, purple-black and swollen. Jared folds the icepack in half and slips it under Jensen's shirt to rest right on his skin.

Jensen sighs and nuzzles his head into Jared's neck. Jared grins and presses a soft kiss to Jensen's head. Sadie trots in and flops down on Jared's other side, settling her head in his lap. Jared scratches behind her ears and talks softly to her, being careful not to disturb Jensen. Harley wanders in and curls up beside Jensen, resting his head on Jensen's hip. Jared smiles at his three favorite people and goes back to watching the movie.


	6. Goddamn Global Warming

Goddamn global warming.

That has to be the explanation for why it was 85 degrees and sunny yesterday and it's 60 degrees and raining today. Stupid schizophrenic weather. Jensen's never been a fan of the weather in Vancouver, but this is the first time he's actively hated it. The consistent cold and wet of winter he can handle, but this yo-yo thing is hell on his body. He woke up this morning with a headache he can't seem to shake and the all-too-familiar tightness in his chest. He'd almost made them late for work because he couldn't find his stupid spacer and ended up having to go through his closet to locate it. Jared had given him a strange look but didn't ask and Jensen wasn't about to tell him, so the ride to the studio had been a little quieter than usual.

When they get to the studio, they find out that the schedule's been changed and they're doing outdoor location work in a nearby cemetery today rather than tomorrow. Jensen groans. This is just not his day. He makes an excuse to Jared and stops by his trailer to grab his rescue inhaler; he's pretty sure he's going to need it.

The practice runs through the cemetery are okay, but by the time they actually get to filming Jensen's having a pretty hard time catching his breath. On the third take he tries to yell his line but ends up coughing so hard it doubles him over. He sinks to his knees in the wet grass and fumbles for his inhaler. He wishes he had the spacer now but that's too hard to hide in a pocket. He takes a hit off the inhaler and struggles to pull the much-needed medicine into his lungs. He can't stop coughing and there's an iron band around his chest that's rapidly getting tighter and tighter. He vaguely hears commotion around him; eventually Jared's voice filters through and Jensen locks onto the reassuring sound as he tries and fails to take another hit off the inhaler.

Hands, now, pushing him onto his back, tilting up his chin, fitting an oxygen mask over his face. A hand on his arm. _Jared._ Moving, now, gray sky giving way to a white roof--ambulance. He doesn't have the energy to be embarrassed, it's taking every bit of strength he can muster just to suck precious air into his lungs.

A flurry of movement, voices, bright lights. Jared's hand in his, warm and solid. Cold plastic in his mouth--nebulizer. _Oh, thank Christ._ The iron band loosens, the white sparks start to clear from his vision. The medicine tastes awful, bitter and metallic, but it's helping, thank God, it's helping. He can breathe. He can breathe.

"Jensen?" Jared's voice is small, hesitant. "Jen? You with me?" Jensen squeezes Jared's hand, which is still clutching his own like a vise. "God, you scared the shit out of me. I thought you were dying. Thank God the medics knew, 'cause the rest of us didn't have a clue." Jared's eyes go dark. "We're having a serious talk about this later." Jensen nods, chagrined. Jared's face softens into a small, tentative smile and he squeezes Jensen's hand gently. "I only worry because I love you, you know that. You're everything to me."

Jensen nods and reaches up to brush his fingers lightly over Jared's heart. _You're everything to me, too._ Jared grins, wide and true.


End file.
